


Go It Alone

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Violence, Canon Compliant, Caretaking, Caring, Crime Fighting, Developing Friendships, Family Feels, Fights, First Meetings, Hiding Medical Issues, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Isolation, Loneliness, Major Character Injury, Medical Procedures, Medical Trauma, Mocking, Multiple Selves, Near Death Experiences, Pre-Canon, Promises, Protectiveness, Rescue Missions, Responsibility, Schneeplestein To The Rescue, Stabbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 15:00:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12633483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: Overcome your guilt. Care, but not too much. Take on responsibility, but don't blame yourself. Protect, save, and help, but know when to give up. They're precarious ledges to walk. How do I do it?Since his creation, Jackieboy Man has always fought his battles alone. Now he doesn't have to and that...takes some getting used to.





	Go It Alone

Owning the responsibility of being a superhero had never been easy and as soon as he was created, Jackieboy had been forced to accept that, mostly because of the welcome he had received. He’d burst into the Egos Central building, ready with a heroic greeting to his fellow Egos, and had found all of the lights were off—more than that, all of the light switches had been torn out of the walls. Even without the lights, he could see that the entire place was a ruin.

As soon as he’d taken his first step past the doorway, Anti had come to greet him. That had been an interesting battle, to say the least, but Jackieboy was new and fresh and Anti hadn’t gained as much popularity with the fans yet, at least not compared to what he had now, so they fairly rivaled each other in power. They had destroyed what precious little was left of the building before dropping where they were and passing out for the night. In the morning, Anti had disappeared and Jackieboy was left with some serious renovations to do.

They were the first two and for the most part, they avoided each other. Jackieboy was left to his own devices for everything, including the treatment of his post-mission injuries. He spent many nights curled up on his bed, biting his lip against the pain until it bled too, his gloved hands shaking as he stitched up his wounds and then the tears in his jumpsuit that went with them. His secondary location was the bathroom, where he spent his time fighting for consciousness or throwing up after the unpleasant surprise of whiplash or an electrocution or natural blood loss.

It wasn’t easy, but it was worth it. He reminded himself of that every night as he crawled—sometimes literally—to his bed, dry-swallowing his painkillers and searching for the sleep position that would hurt the least. It was worth it. Every time he saw the light, the hope and adoration in his citizens’ eyes, it made every scar something worth remembering.

It wasn’t like he could ever _forget_ them, after all. He remembered every mission and the sweat, blood, and tears that went into them.

Nothing, and yet somehow everything, changed when another Ego arrived on the scene. Jackieboy had been in the kitchen, filling the lonesome void of silence by pondering his usual routine: dinner and a beer, some painkillers, researching home medical treatment for injuries, scouring the Deep Web for more crimes to prevent and then, if the city was quiet, binge-watching some of his favorite shows until he fell asleep. This routine was long-forged; time was somewhat different for the Egos than it was for everyone else.

As he’d rummaged around one day, he had found Anti’s notes on the matter: in what he called “outer time,” the time Jack and the fans knew, Jackieboy had only been created a month ago. In “Personal time,” he was already years old and he had spent those years going it alone, apart from those unfortunate instances when Anti threw a swing out of the blue, determined to take everything out on him. There were times that this reality threatened to drive him round the bend, but he honestly couldn’t foresee it changing any time soon.

Barely thirty seconds after this familiar thought, a near-blinding green glow broke open the front doors with a resounding crash, bringing Jackieboy in at his best run—which was more of a limp, considering that he had sprained his ankle the week before. Before him stood Marvin the Magnificent and he…wasn’t as magnificent as his name suggested. In fact, when he arrived, he didn’t even _have_ an official name.

“Jack…didn’t expect me, I don’t think,” the nameless one had said as greeting. “He didn’t expect me to become an Ego; I was a one-time gig.” He shifted anxiously, his long cape pulled tightly in around his hunched shoulders, eyes wide and young and _new_ behind his ridiculous cat mask, and Jackieboy had melted.

“One time is all it takes,” he answered reassuringly, squaring his shoulders and ignoring how the left one ached from being recently set. “Don’t you worry, magician. I’m gonna take care of you.”

 _Take care_. If Jackieboy was anything, he was a man of his word, which was why his new companion was settled comfortably in a room immediately next to his. Even with the love and glory he had gotten from crime-fighting, he was never happier than when he remembered he had a “brother” to come home to. The time they spent getting to know each other was precious; Jackieboy helped him hone his identity, scouring the city for new magic books to give him, introducing him to all of the Harry Potter movies in the span of two days, and inventing a new moniker for him every morning to keep his spirits up until Jack could give him that one perfect name. It would come soon, he was sure of it!

His companion did quite a lot for him too, though he never seemed to realize how important all of it was. For the first time in his life, Jackieboy wasn’t weighing Personal minutes anymore, straining past every agonizingly slow, silent second. He wasn’t blasting loud music, desperate to drown out the silence, and he was able to say goodnight to someone knowing they would be in the next room when he woke up. He had someone who not only looked up to him but didn’t need to be rescued. They were close and safe together.

Of course, having someone in the house who actually _cared_ about his safety made going it alone a little harder. Jackieboy was the protector, plain and simple, which meant he desperately wanted his “brother” to _feel_ safe. He had a distinct feeling that licking his wounds in plain sight would undermine that, so he thought fast, playing off Jack’s authority just a little as he explained that their creator had a set of rules for younger Egos to follow. Those rules included a curfew. As soon as he felt the ever-present tingle of the magician’s aura soften into sleep, he would drag himself to the bathroom and get to work.

The curfew wasn’t as helpful with time-sensitive injuries, but he hunkered down and bore it well until the next time he could get a room to himself. He started stashing medical vitals in various nooks and crannies, simple things like bandages, needles and thread, and painkillers— _lots_ of painkillers. It was miraculous what modern pills could do to stifle those annoying whines of pain that wanted nothing more than to crawl out of his lungs when he least expected them.

Those pills were all he could think of as he limped home after his latest escapade. The Silver Shepherd had called him in a panic asking for his help in dealing with an alien creature running amuck in his city nearby. After hours of chasing the gigantic arachnoid being, pinning it down and then chasing it down again when it inevitably escaped, one good shot to two of its legs had sent it crashing into the side of a building—one occupied by civilians on every floor. Silver Shepherd had lunged, but Jackieboy had frankly ordered him to stay behind and evacuate the civilians while he held the building up. Shepherd knew the city better, so he would know the safest place to send them.

The lobby ceiling was heavy as all _balls_ and he had no idea how long it took, but he kept his thoughts away from the pain. “Work with your knees, use your knees, no slipping,” he hissed through short, ragged breaths as his back and the rubble pressed against it groaned ominously. _No pain, no pain, don’t let go. They’re scared, they need you_. At long, long last, he could hear Shepherd shouting from outside that the civilians were safe. Trembling, Jackieboy breathed a sigh of relief and promptly let his body give out.

He was curled up there under the rubble for a while, not really caring to get up, until he heard his friend calling for a rescue team to dig him out. That wasn’t allowed; if they found him like this, who knew how they would react? “Get up,” he ordered himself, wriggling as best he could until the wreckage started to shift. As soon as it slid off, he threw himself to his feet—best to get it done quickly—and it was all he could do not to cry out, but he was upright and he was _fine and dandy_.

Shepherd was definitely relieved to see him, but Jackieboy kept the congratulations brief, making up some excuse about the magician needing him at home before heading out. Flying wasn’t an option; he could gauge that something was seriously wrong with his back and he didn’t want to put any drag on it. The dull impact of each step alone was agony.

When he got home, any residual adrenaline died away and he felt like his skin was on fire. The bathroom felt miles away, but he made it there by sheer willpower and stripped off as much of his costume as he could, sagging against the door to keep himself standing. As soon as he did, he was forced to bite back a high-pitched yelp as the door bumped the piece of _metal_ lodged in his lower back. If he craned his neck, he could see it in the mirror: a piece of rebar. It wasn’t even that thick; why did it feel like he had been backstabbed with a broadsword?!

Somehow it had managed to miss his spine and vital organs, he noted, searching desperately for a bright side. That meant he should pull it out, right? He honestly had no idea. His computer in the other room felt very, very far away and his phone had been broken by the building falling on top of him, so he couldn’t check for sure. He’d rather wing it than have rebar in his back any longer than was necessary.

“Out,” he whispered, straining to get a proper grip on the metal despite the awkward angle. “Out, out, out—gently—” The edges of his vision were whiting out and he was distantly aware that he could very well land on the injury as he collapsed, but just as the floor started rising to meet him, the rebar fell with a clang and blood cut a bright, wet trail through the dust on his skin.

Antiseptic became his best friend, forcing Jackieboy to laugh at the irony as he swathed his back in it and several layers of gauze. He would probably need stitches for it, but he could get to it later. In the meantime he treated the other shallow cuts scattered across his body, meticulously picking out any glass that had gouged its way in and slapping bandages on those too. He definitely needed stitches for his leg, however, and it wasn’t a need he could put off.

He was out of painkillers in his bathroom stash, he discovered, mumbling a curse as he grabbed the thread and crept out toward the kitchen. He would have to be particularly stealthy if he wanted Magic Man to keep sleeping peacefully, but his closest store was at the very back of the pantry—reaching up to grab them was going to be murder, but all that mattered was the relief he would feel afterward.

They weren’t there. As much as Jackieboy patted around and stood on tiptoe to see, the bottles had vanished. Biting his lip and doing his best not to panic, the hero spun around, jumping out of his torn and bloody skin when he came face to face with Anti.

“L͘oo̴k̷i̴n͘g for̶ ͟th̨ese̡?” the Glitch taunted, waving the bottles innocently.

“I don’t have time for this,” Jackieboy hissed, vehement and pained.

“W̕ha͜t'̢s yo̵ur hưr̡ry̡? Worried that the c͢h͞ar̵m̶e̢r͢ may find out what y̢͞ǫ̶͡u̡͢͡’ve been k͟ȩepi̧n̕g f̡ro͘m̡ h͘im̴?̧” Anti scoffed, turning the bottles over in each of his hands and scanning them intently. “When d̛o you plan o̴n t̶el̨l̢ing him̴?̧”

“Why do you care? What d’you _want?_ ”

“I w̴ant to wa̧tch you i͘m̵p̵r̕ov҉i̵se. I want to see if t̷o̶d͡ay’s the day you d͡ro͜p d̸e͟a҉d because you can’t keep your f̛riends cļo̡se͘!” Jackieboy’s irises sputtered with threatening light and Anti tilted his head condescendingly. “Don’t try͘ that; you don’t want to s͝tr͡a̴i̷n yourself.”

True to Anti’s words, Jackieboy felt the power in his blood waning; most of it was seeping from his back at the moment. “Anti…” he began in a low voice, very nearly pleading.

Anti’s teeth remained bared, but any hint of humor dropped away from his face as he leaned closer, static making his voice and figure grainy as he barked, “You _ma̶d̛e͢_ this happ͡e͟n and yo̵u ‘ll be the one who fi̢x͠es it! Go ͞a̶head͠, herǫ! Just try and _fix ̶it͞!̸_ ”

Jackieboy swung. He was in agony and he was angry and he did the first thing his instincts told him. Anti swore and flung the precious bottles to the side, where they exploded against the wall and scattered their contents as he drew his knife to replace them. It wasn’t a fight Jackieboy could win and in the back of his mind he knew it, but he couldn’t let himself stop. He swung and missed, swung and missed again, narrowly ducked Anti’s swipe and batted his arm away from his throat, only for Anti to neatly flip the knife to his free hand and plunge it into his side. The hero couldn’t manage anything but a stuttering gasp at the fresh pain blooming; the bloom became a burn as Anti viciously twisted it up under his ribs.

“S̶o p͢ointl̸ess,͟ pu̢pp͡e̷ţ,” he tutted as Jackieboy’s feet slid out from under him on the linoleum; he was held up by the knifepoint alone. “Let’s h̶op͞e the c̷ha͘rmer is smar̴te͟r͏ than y̸o̡u we͟re̶.”

 _Were_ , Jackieboy realized as Anti dragged the knife out of him inch by serrated inch and strode off, letting him drop. _Were. I’m dying?_ Belated terror coursed through his veins as the blood left them, bubbling up in his throat and his side, but the fear wasn’t for himself. He couldn’t let this happen, he couldn’t let the magician be alone, not with Anti. He was young, vulnerable—he didn’t even know his _name_ yet—

“Hello there? Is anyone…oh, my, what has happened to _you?!_ ” an exotic, accented voice gasped, drawing a cough from Jackieboy as he gravitated toward the noise. With a clatter and a thump, the stranger arrived beside him. As soon as he glimpsed the similar shock of green hair, Jackieboy knew.

A new Ego. This was the _worst_ time possible for a new Ego; for all he knew, Anti could still be around.

“G-Get out of here… _Hide_ ,” he found himself saying, every word a struggle. His vision was swimming, but even when he blinked, startled eyes peering into his own were all he could see of the new one’s face; the rest of it was covered by an awkwardly attached procedure mask.

“You are the hero!” the stranger was now babbling in a panic, completely ignoring Jackieboy’s words. “I know him, he save the city countless times, we all love him—you—but you’re in a sorry state! What on earth did you stick yourself with and why, oh, why? B-But do not worry, the—the doctor is here! Dr. Schneep will do all he can to save you…”

“ _Jackie?_ ”

No, no, no, that was the magician’s voice, he couldn’t be seen like—He spotted Magic Man coming up on the scene from the hallway, gaping down at him and the youngest Ego in horror.

“You there! Help me with him,” the foreign doctor—Schneep, he’d said?—ordered hurriedly, and the magician was quick to obey, carrying Jackieboy to the nearby dining room table. Jackieboy’s mind went to strange places when he was bleeding out: his first thought was that he didn’t want to stain the tablecloth. He tried to say as much, but he was already flat on his back with his “brother’s” cape draped over his lower legs, so it was too late.

It was too late for a lot of things, he mused regretfully as he watched the magician pace the room, begging the new one to act fast. The doctor nodded with such force that his surgical cap flew off his head, rummaging through the bag he’d brought in with him. Jackieboy focused on that for a few moments, wondering at how he moved and talked so differently, though he couldn’t make out what he was saying anymore until he pushed back Jackieboy’s hood and leaned in very close. This close up, Jackieboy could see that his gaze was strained by anxiety, but his voice was kind.

“Do not worry, hero,” he soothed. “We’re gonna take good care of you.”

 _Take care_. Jackieboy recalled making that same promise some time ago. Eyes glassy and overly bright behind his mask, he offered a small nod. Maybe…just this once, it would be nice for him to be rescued.


End file.
